


Forced

by wlxo1



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Forced Bonding, Forced Marriage, Getting to Know Each Other, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Melancholy, Multi, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Polygamy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Inexperience, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlxo1/pseuds/wlxo1
Summary: Your father offers you as a wife to Negan in exchange for leaving him and his community alone. Negan accepts the offer. Would you be able to deal with your new life or not?
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> t/w: sort of non-con sexual encounter ahead. if that's not your cup of tea, don't read this.

_He will take good care of you._

  
That’s the only thing you kept hearing from your father and every adult around you for the last two weeks.

  
_«You look beautiful, Y/N...»_ Your father reassures you for a hundredth time this day like this charade of a wedding actually means anything to you. Or to anyone else except him.

You knew it was just a deal for him, and you served as a bargain chip: he offers this monstrous man your hand in marriage and in exchange he leaves your father and his community alone. No more “offerings”, no more living hand-to-mouth. It was a win-win situation for everyone. For everyone except you, of course. _«Just wait until he sees how beautiful you are. Then he’ll take even better care of you.»_ Your father chants like a prayer while watching you putting on some makeup that his men managed to scavenge a couple of days ago.

There was really no need for any kind of touch-ups in your opinion, nothing could change your painfully average looks anyway. Just when you were about to finish coating your lashes in the final layer of mascara, you hear a small knock on the door of your new room.

  
_«Everything’s settled. Boss is waiting for you...»_ The woman behind the door says, clearing her throat.

  
You look at yourself in the mirror one last time, drinking in your appearance. At least the dress is nice. It’s a simple, white a-line garment as average looking as you are, so you guess it suits you well. You don’t have much time to think about your looks as you feel your father squeeze your hand, more for his reassurance than yours before rushing you to the Sanctuary’s main room where the ceremony will take place.

  
You always dreamed about the day your father would walk you down the aisle, how happy you would be, surrounded by your family and friends, marrying the man with whom you wanted to spent the rest of your life with. Instead you were forced to marry a man that you have never seen, practically pimped out to him by your own father.

Guess most of the times dreams just don’t come true. Especially in the world that you lived in now.

  
_«Be nice to him, please?»_ Your father pleads.

You take a deep breath before entering the main room of what once was a factory, immediately sensing what feels like a dozen set of eyes staring at you as you make your way to the makeshift altar, catching the first glimpse of the man you were about to sacrifice yourself to.

  
At least he wasn’t ugly, you thought, gazing at him from underneath the large, netted veil that made your own face almost invisible for him.

  
_«God, it’s like talking to a birthday present...»_ He drawls out all of a sudden in a thick southern accent, making you flinch slightly. _«Let’s see what you got me, James.»_ The man continues before lifting your veil, curiosity sparkling in his dark brown orbs for a split second.

  
You feel completely naked under his perceptive gaze despite wearing a floor-length dress.

  
_«Wow...»_ He trails off with an amused huff. _«She really is a cream of the crop.»_

  
Your father doesn’t say anything, nodding in reply and avoiding eye contact with you. You know he feels bad and doesn’t want to do that, but hate him nonetheless for this. No matter how hard it is for him, using his own daughter as a bargain chip is too much.

  
_«Why don’t we get this shit over with?»_ The man speaks up again. _«Reverend?»_ He motions for the man to start.

  
You frown slightly, keeping your eyes trained on the dark green wall in front of you, ministers’ voice rumbling somewhere in the back of the room. Still, you can’t help yourself but take another peek at the man in front of you. He was wearing the most casual outfit possible, a plain white t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans and cowboy boots. He looked like he was about to grab a drink at the bar with his friends, not get married. It made you feel even more dumb and out of place in your dress, veil and a full set of lingerie hidden beneath all of that other fabric.

  
_«Negan, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer «I do.» »_ Priest continues his speech, and you perk up slightly.

  
Negan. His name is Negan. Learning your husbands’ name on the day of your wedding is one of the most peculiar things in the world.

  
_«I do.»_ His answer is simple, and you know there will be no vows or other speeches. You barely know each other, there’s nothing to vow for.

  
_«Y/N, do you take Negan to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer «I do.»_ » Priest asks you the same question.

  
_«Yes, I do.»_ The words come out more like a choked out sob, but he either didn’t notice that or pretends not to, pronouncing you husband and wife. There are no rings, which doesn’t surprise you as they are very hard to scavenge, and you clearly don’t matter much for him to risk lives of his workers, but there is a kiss.

  
His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his lean body before he presses a warm, open mouthed kiss on your lips. You let his tongue tangle with yours, surprised by how good he tastes. Like cinnamon gum, your favorite.

  
_«As you were!»_ His stern voice makes your audience scatter, returning them to their everyday deeds, and he picks you up, bridal style, of course, and carries you through the main room to an unknown location. They’re still staring at you, you notice, immediately getting embarrassed again. The last thing you see before hiding your face in the crook of his neck is a sympathetic glance sent to you by a redhead woman in an ill fitting black dress.

  
_«You don’t talk much, aren’t you?»_ Is the first thing he says to you when you’re left one on one, moving through the corridors of the place that was supposed to be your new home.  
You just shake your head before getting off him when you finally reach your destination.

  
His room is huge, almost four times bigger than yours, with a coffee table, a couple of armchairs, small kitchen and the door which you assumed lead to the private bathroom.  
Next thing that captured your attention is a king-sized bed with luxuriously looking silky white linens. You gulped down slightly, the bed reminding you exactly why you were there in the first place.

  
To get fucked.

  
You highly doubted that a man of such brutish temper and carnal desires actually made love with anyone.

  
_«Let’s see the rest of my present, shall we?»_ He nibbles on your earlobe playfully, his warm breathing tickling your neck. His long, deft fingers unzip you dress in one quick motion and you let it slip off your body, stepping out of it as it pools at your legs.

  
You don’t see a point in trying to cover yourself, but still feel humiliated when he twirls you around, shamelessly ogling you from head to toe.  
_«You are stunning...»_ He murmurs when his eyes migrate to your chest, clad in a nude lacy bra that leaves little to imagination, nipples poking at the contact with mesh material. _«People are resource, but in this case I don’t mind leaving all of those fucks and your daddy’s shit behind if it means I get you instead.»_ Negans’ finger traces down your sternum to your navel before his hand grabs your hip, moving you almost too close to him so you can feel something undeniably hard, thick and long resting against your naked thigh.

  
_«Are you sure you wanna do that?»_ He asks out of nowhere, tucking a strand of baby hair behind your ear. You nod, seeing no point in delaying what would happen anyway sooner or later. You were there simply to serve his...urges, and if it meant bending over and opening your legs, so be it.

  
_«Take your clothes off then...»_ He chuckles at the word clothes. _«Leave the garter belt and stockings on. They’re sexy as hell...»_ He adds after pondering for a couple of seconds.  
You comply, unclasping your bra and sliding it off your shoulders, your nipples tightening even harder at the contact with cold air of the bedroom, gooseflesh appearing on your skin.

  
You feel the last remaining bits of dignity being taken away from you as you step out of your panties, his eyes glued to the small patch of hair right above the slit of your otherwise clean shaven mound.

  
« _Why don’t you help me undress? Take care of your husband like a good little wife I know you are...»_ He offers, but you know it’s more of an order than a suggestion, so you comply. Starting with sliding off his leather jacket, you fold it and put in on the dresser. He already kicked off the boots and socks, so you resume with his t-shirt. He assists you, putting his hands up as you take it off, folding it neatly as well and putting it on top of the dresser yet again. He has a nice body, you have to admit. You always had a thing for a skinnier men, but when they were also toned it made that tingling feeling in your lower belly appear. He was exactly like that: lean and toned with an abundant amount of tattoos scattered around his body.

  
_«Enjoying the view, huh?»_ He lets out an amused chuckle and you resume with your task, blushing like a schoolgirl while unbuckling his belt with shaking hands. _«There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. You’re sexy as fuck, I’m sexy as fuck, and we’re about to fuck.»_ He lifts your chin up gently so you can look him in the eyes, putting a small kiss on your nose. _«Don’t be ashamed of this. It’s just sex. It’s natural.»_ He keeps reassuring you.

  
When you finally stop fumbling with the belt, he pops the button of his grey jeans open and sticks your hand inside both his pants and boxers brazenly. You feel it, warm and fleshy, with something already leaking from the tip. His cock is definitely very big, and you have no idea how it would fit inside you.

  
_«You’re not very experienced, are you?»_ He asks with a sigh and you nod again. _«Can you please start communicating verbally?»_ There is slight annoyance in his voice and you nod automatically.

  
_«Yes. Sorry.»_ You correct yourself immediately, feeling your blush spreading all the way to your neck.

  
He takes your hand in his, guiding you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge of it so you’re eye level with his crotch.  
_«Do you want me to...»_ You start rambling nervously, staring at the line of hair under his navel that travelled down the waistline of his boxers. «Orally service you?» You finally find the right words to say. He lets out another chuckle, probably at your weird choosing of words.

  
_«Do you want to orally service me?»_ He mimics your question. _«You don’t have to do that. Yet. You can just give me a handy.»_ It’s a genuine offer this time, and you accept it too eagerly for your own liking. He shimmies out of his pants and underwear, and you regret your decision immediately. His cock isn’t big, it’s huge with a bulbous red tip that’s already leaking and a couple of prominent veins.

  
_«Lick your palm and grab my dick firmly at the base.»_ You do as he says, but grasp it gently, afraid of hurting him accidentally, and start moving your hand up and down on his shaft. _«I’ve said firmly.»_ Negan tsks, winding his fingers in your hair ever so slightly and you squeeze it harder, earning a groan of approval from him. You keep stroking him for a couple of minutes as the room slowly starts to fill with your hitched breathing and his lewd groans. You see some sort of clear fluid starting to leak from the slit of his cock.

  
_«What is this? Can I taste it?»_ You ask, slight curiosity audible in your voice.

  
_«It’s precum. You’re making me feel very good, but not too good to cum yet. You can lick it off if you wanna.»_ A pleased grin stretches over his features when you tilt your head, gathering all of the sheer liquid with your tongue and swallowing it. Taster salty. It earns you a pet on the head and another little kiss on your nose. _«I’m fucking touched. Not a lot of my wives swallow.»_ You don’t know why praise from this man in particular makes you squirm with pleasure so much, but it does, creating a feeling that you can only describe as butterfly wings tapping in your lower belly. You opt for asking about wives as in plural later, thought about not being the only one bothering you slightly.

  
_«Now why don’t you lay that pretty head down and let me return the favor, huh?»_ You do as he says, watching him reposition you so your crotch is in the direct line of his vision, his face hovering right above your mound. You thought that the last remaining bits of your dignity were taken away from you when you took of your panties. No. It happened right now, when he spread your legs as wide as it was possible, revealing your pink, swollen vulva to his hungry gaze. You make a futile attempt to close your legs, but he holds them in place firmly, not letting you move.

  
_«I’m your husband now, Y/N. There’s no need to hide anything from me, especially something that beautiful.»_ Negan gives your slit a broad lick before focusing on that little bud right above it, licking his thumb and placing it there, which immediately sends a pleasureable tingle down your spine. He starts massaging it slowly and a couple of strokes after you start feeling wetness pool between your legs.

  
When your insides start buzzing with some kind of unfamiliar pleasure, he withdrawals his finger away and you let out a disappointed sigh that is quickly replaced with a small moan. You feel one of his fingers slip into your opening and probe at the ribbed walls of your sex. You clench down immediately, not used to any kind of penetration.

  
_«You diddle yourself often, baby?»_ The man wonders, and you shake your head, too overwhelmed to talk. The meaning of the word diddle is not exactly familiar for you, but you assume that it means something close to masturbation. _«Yeah, that’s showing. Your pussy is very fucking tight, just the way I love it. You think you’re ready for my fat cock? I think you are.»_ You feel the bed dip slightly under his weight when he crawls on top of you, his fully erected member resting against your thigh. You’re not sure how something so big could fit inside you, but apparently it can, so you just try to relax, watching him line his cock up with your slicked up entrance.

  
You can’t possibly be ready for what comes next: he slides himself inside you with a quick, fluid thrust, settling balls deep in a matter of seconds. You let out a choked scream, tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably, struggling to accommodate his length inside you. Both of you feel something warm trickling down on the linens where your bodies connected, and you don’t have to look there to know that it’s blood.

  
_«Why didn’t you tell me you’re a virgin?»_ He stilled inside you, deep crease forming on his face when he narrowed his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

  
_«I’ve said I was inexperienced...»_ You try to defend yourself, squirming under him. You let out a line of small huffs, trying to steady your breathing. When he pulls out, you feel relieved and painfully empty at the same time. He strokes his cock for a couple of times and you feel something warm and gooey land on your thigh.

  
_«You can go back to your room now.»_ Negan’s tone changes from gentle and playful to cold and uncaring. He helps you get up from the bed and you slide back into your panties and dress, crouching in pain at your every movement before picking your heels up and leaving his quarters.

  
_«Fat Joseph._ » He addresses one of the guards that’s standing in the corner of the corridor. _«Go and fetch Frankie for me, please?»_

  
He doesn’t say anything to you, shutting the door in front of your face and leaving you no choice but to return to your room. As soon as you enter your chamber, you strip again and get in the shower, letting all of the pent-up tears and sobs finally escape your body.


	2. Chapter 2

_«You wanted to see me?»_ Frankie enters Negans’ private chamber, making sure to knock on the door before walking in. She spent too much time with him not to know all of the ground rules. Always knocking on the door before entering was one of them. She was surprised to find him sitting behind the massive mahogany table that he used as his working desk, going through some papers. It was already late.

  
_«Yeah. Come sit on my lap.»_ He patted his knee in invitation, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the paperwork. Frankie does what she was told to do, straddling his body and clasping her arms around his neck. Negan snakes his arm around her waistline and a pleased grin stretches across Frankies' face when he plants a kiss on top of her head. She's his favorite, the only wife that he likes not only because of her looks, but because she's a good lay and manages to maintain a somewhat decent conversation after he fucks her brains out. She likes to cuddle and was a masseur before the world went to shit, which is also a nice perk. A damn good masseur.

  
_«Frankie?»_ He calls out her name, finally putting the papers away into one of the desk drawers.  
_«Yes, daddy?_ » She perks up slightly when she hears her name, happy that she’ll be the center of his attention at least for now. _«You want me to give you a shoulder rub, don’t you?»_ Frankie asks with a cheeky smile on her face and he nods. She takes his t-shirt off, tossing it on the floor carelessly before getting out of his lap and standing behind him to start massaging his shoulders.

  
_«Someones’ tense...»_ She points out matter-of-factly, feeling his muscles straining under her expert touch. He lets out a low groan of pleasure in response, sinking into the chair when he finally lets himself unwind a little, all of the troubles of the day washing away with Frankies’ gentle motions and soft hums. _«Is something bothering you, daddy?»_

  
They really shared something special. Not love, of course, but some sort of connection where each of them knew exactly how another one felt without telling a word.

  
_«Hop on that desk, babydoll...»_ He urges her to take a place in front of him so his face is eye-level with the lower part of her body. « _You know you’re my favorite, right?_ » Negan wraps his calloused palm around Frankies’ supple thigh, waiting for her reaction.

  
_«I had no faintest idea...»_ She giggles, clearly fucking with him as she watches him kneeling in front of her. One of his hands brings her pelvis closer to the edge of the desk while other rolls up the skirt of that one particular black dress she knows he loves so much. Smirk spreads over his face when he finds out that she’s not wearing any underwear. _«Shit like this is exactly why you’re my favorite. You’re gorgeous, you give amazing shoulder rubs, your personality isn’t bland, you let me do all of that kinky stuff I ask you to do, not to mention that you’re the only one who is actually able to completely fucking drain my balls.»_ She lets out another amused giggle at his choice of words, pride swelling in her chest when she hears that. _«Can I ask you to do something for me?»_ Negan quirks his eyebrow, locking his eyes with hers when he puts an open mouthed kiss on her upper thigh.

It all makes sense now. What all the flattery and «you’re so special» bullshit was for. To coerce her into doing something for him. Probably anal, he’s been dying to try it since the first time they talked about it. That was so typically him. Being gentlemanly only to get something from her.  
And the worst thing, she would probably do anything he asks her to. Not even out of fear of punishment. She knew he would never hurt her or any of them. Physically at least.

  
_«Anything, Negan. Within the bounds of reason, of course. And if I get something in return.»_ She responds, rising on the desk at the same time he gets up from his knees so they’re eye to eye with each other. She licks her lips in anticipation of what would happen next, tension thick in the air of the silent chamber. His skilled fingers find their way to her waistline again, pulling the dress off Frankies body and letting it pool somewhere next to his t-shirt. He’s pleased to find out she’s also not wearing any bra, which leaves her completely bare in front of him. His eyes travel from her collarbones to the crinkled buds of her already erected nipples before finally setting on the cusp of her mound. There’s a small patch of ginger hair there, and he teases it a little, grazing it with his nail before spreading her legs and placing his finger on her clit.

  
_«Already nice and wet for daddy. Good girl...»_ He praises her yet again and Frankie makes a desperate attempt not to purr at his words. She fallen for the man hard long time ago, and ever since then she was finding herself being a doormat for him far too often. She couldn’t help herself: every compliment, every praise, every kiss and smack on the ass both in public and in private made her secretly squirm in pleasure and long for more. She lets out a moan when he sheaths his manhood inside her quivering walls in a second, connecting their hips as he pulls her into a sloppy kiss.

  
_«So, what do you want me to do for you?»_ She asks as they move their hips in unison, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and lewd moans filling the otherwise silent room. Her small fingers tangle in his black hair, giving it a particularly painful tug when he hits her cervix accidentally or on purpose, and his rough hands firmly grip her hips. She’s sure he’ll leave a bruise there, but she likes the idea of being marked as his anyway.

  
_«Frankie, I’m about to blow...»_ He gives her a fair warning as he always does so she could ask him to pull out, but she doesn’t say anything, rolling her clit between her forefinger and thumb. And then it happens. They come in unison, him roaring like a wild animal, filling her to the brim with his load and her clenching around him desperately, milking his cock from his seed. He fondles her breasts mindlessly in the aftermath of the orgasm, waiting for her to stop panting and gripping at him so they could continue their conversation.

  
_«You remember that I’m going on a run tomorrow, right?»_ He flops down in his chair with naked Frankie still occupying his lap. She gives him a nod, taking at as a hint for her to dress up and leave, but when she tries to get out of the chair he grabs her hand gently, forcing her back into his arms. _«I’m not kicking you out, baby. You know I’m as much of a cuddler as you are. I just wanted to ask you if you could maybe look after my new wife while I’m out. Show her around, tell her about the rules, teach her a couple of tricks, you know? I’m not sure if she knows what the fuck clit is, let alone what to do with my dick.»_ Frankie cracks her eyelid, letting out a little yawn and nuzzling her nose against his collarbone.

  
_«Is that even possible? Not knowing what clit is, I mean?»_ She wonders out loud, contemplating whether she should do that. It could be fun, plus Negan would probably be very pleased with her. That’s the only thing that matters at the end of the day.  
_«Apparently it is.»_ He scoffs, absentmindedly tracing small patterns on her already bruising hip with his fingers. _«She still has some balls draining potential though. Wanted to eat my cum while giving me a handy. Super hot.»_

  
_«Balls draining potential? You and your silver tongue, Negan.»_ Frankie lets out a small giggle, trying to conceal a twitch of jealousy prickling in her chest. She wouldn’t mind sharing him with any other wife, but only when having sex. She was used to being his only favorite.  
_«I aim to please, kitten.»_ He rubs her hip and then smacks her ass playfully, watching the left cheek jiggle obscenely. She yawns for another time, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. A quick glance at Negans’ wristwatch tells her it’s already midnight, so she probably has to leave. She wants to stay and warm his bed up for him, but he would never let that happen. She would take an occasional nap in the silky sheets of his bed once in a while when he would tire her out a little bit too much, but spending the night was not allowed to any of the wives. He would fuck them senseless and send them back to their quarters, just like how he was about to do now.

  
_«I’ll do that, don’t worry.»_ She reassures him and he beams immediately, pulling her into a heated kiss, tickling her sides. Frankie sways his hand away, getting out of his lap and picking up her dress from the pile of their clothes on the floor. _«As much as I would love to continue, you have to head out early tomorrow and no one wants you to be drowsy on that run. Could cost you your life.»_ Frankie sighs, putting her heels on. She knows the risks are minimal, with other Saviors doing most of the job, but they are still there. Accidents happen.

  
_«Well, this little arrangement just tickles my balls, kitten.»_ He swats her ass for the last time before escorting her out of the room.

  
_«Oh, and Frankie?»_ He adds, clearing his throat when she’s about to leave to her chamber. She perks up slightly. Maybe he’ll invite her to stay the night. _«Can you please drop by tomorrow morning? I’ll hand you over her dress and lingerie.»_  
_«Of course.»_ She’s suddenly glad that the hallways is dark. That way he can’t see a sad frown that her face morphs into as she vanishes into the darkness.

* * *

  
Next morning you can’t find even a slightest bit of strength to roll out of the bed, feeling even shittier than the night before. Your whole body aches and your face is still damp and puffy from tears. You haven’t slept much, spending most of the night crying and thinking about the situation you were thrust into by your own father.

  
You finally manage to drag yourself out of the bed when the cold Virginia sun is at it’s zenith. It blinds you for a good five seconds when you slip out of the silky linens that look eerily similar to the ones that you’ve been deflowered on, and those memories make an intense urge to throw up appear in your throat.

  
You bend down in front of the toilet in your private bathroom, attempting to empty your stomach. Apparently, there was nothing in there to get rid of. You haven’t eaten in almost two days, another factor that probably contributed to you feeling so shitty, so you just got in the shower instead. Both cold and warm water did nothing to soothe your body and nerves, so you simply washed your body and hair quickly, thinking about how convenient it would be to have a tub, not a shower. Drowning yourself would be an actual option then.  
Just as you got out of the bathroom, drying your hair with a towel, you heard a small knock on the door. It was so quiet you thought your mind started playing games with you, but when you heard it for another time you wrapped the towel around your body in an attempt to hide the private parts of your body. Although if it was Negan there was no point in that.

To your surprise, there is a woman standing in the doorway. You recognize her: it’s the same one that sympathized with you at the wedding.

  
_«Hello?»_ You greet her, not quite sure what else to say. There are some neatly folded clothes in her hands, something that looks like a dress and a pair of panties. It’s all black and silky and you have a feeling that it’s for you.  
_«Hi. My name’s Frankie.»_ She introduces herself. Great. She’s the woman he called for after to finish the job you couldn’t do. And now he sent her over to rub that in your face. What a gentleman. _«Negan sent me to help you get ready for your first day. He hand-picked those for you...»_ She passes the clothes over to you, waltzing into your room like she was invited to come in. You stare at them for a second before she urges you to stand in front of the tall mirror in the back of your room. A gust of cold wind blows through the window leaf that you left open before showering, reminding you of just how naked you are in front of the woman, the only thing separating her wandering gaze from your most private parts is a thin towel wrapped around you. You suddenly feel even more self-conscious than when you were undressed in front of Negan. She probably senses that, turning around to give you some privacy. Letting the towel pool around your feet, you start getting dressed, putting on the panties he provided you with. The thong is sheer mesh graced with lacy flower embroidery, and you doubt if there is a point in wearing such underwear if it leaves so little to imagination. As you bend down to put it on, you feel a stabbing pain in your nethers that makes you let out a strangled hiss.

  
_«What’s wrong?»_ Frankie asks worriedly when she sees you crouch down and rub your abdomen. You cover your breasts and mound with your hands. _«Hey, Y/N. Stop doing that. I’m here to help.»_ She moves your hands away from your body, twirling you so you could look at yourself in the mirror, helping you to clasp your bra. It’s the same sheer material as the thong, with the exact same floral pattern. _«Listen, I know that everything that’s going on with you right now is a hard pill to swallow, but I promise of you’ll play your cards right you might actually like it here.Become his favorite, just like me.»_ She muses while zipping up the dress Negan picked out for you. It is a perfect fit: a black silky bodycon that hugs your breasts and butt and accentuates your prominent collarbones.

  
_«How am I supposed to enjoy being with a man whom I don’t even like, Frankie?»_ You ask, sounding more defeated than annoyed. She keeps working on your appearance, brooding on how to answer your question.  
« _You don’t have to like him as a person to enjoy being with him. If he sees how special you are, he’ll make sure that your life is as comfortable as it can possibly be in this world. He’ll pamper and protect you and you won’t have to do what others do to survive. All you have to do is be pretty and bend over whenever he asks you to. It’s a relatively small price to pay...»_ She trails off, spraying some perfume all over your body. _«Besides, aren’t you tired of being miserable?»_

  
She is right. You don’t want to admit it, but she is. There was no way out of this. No way in which you’re alive in the end, at least. Maybe trying to adapt is a good idea. That's how people survived even before world turned into a craphole.

  
_«So what do you say? You’ll let me help you adjust, teach you what he likes?»_ She proposes on your way out of you room, taking your hand in hers as she guides you through the corridors of the Sanctuary.  
_«Yeah, okay.»_ You agree sheepishly, not really sure what else to say. Her hand is very soft and she shots you another reassuring smile as both of you move.  
_«Fantastic. We’re gonna be best friends soon, I promise...»_ Frankie promises when you reach your destination, entering a dimly lit and well-furnished room. There are candlelights stationed on almost every available surface, velvet sofas with elegant decorations and wooden bar rack full of different spirits.

  
And that’s when you see them. Other women. They all look completely the same and utterly different at the same time. Apparently, little black dress is a thing of his. So are the hills. That’s what he meant by wives in plural.

  
_«Are you okay?»_ Frankie asks, watching your facial expression morph into one of pain and disgust.  
_«Cramps.»_ You explain shortly, not wishing to share your feelings with her. You don’t know why you feel the way you feel, not wanting to share him with others, and frankly, you don’t want to know. Any kind of introspection would only make things worse in that situation. You already have enough on your plate.  
_«I’ll take you to Doctor Carson after Negan says goodbye to us, okay? He’ll be there in a couple of minutes.»_ She offers and you nod, taking place next to her on one of the couches.  
Negan appears a second after you get somewhat comfortable, in his usual ensemble of dark jeans and white tee with a leather jacket hanging on his shoulders. Only this time he has a baseball bat adorned with a spiked barbed wire.

  
_«Don’t stare at the bat for too long. He doesn’t like that._ » Frankie whispers in your ear and you do as you were told, picking a random book from one of the coffee tables instead.

  
_«Good morning, ladies.»_ He rumbles in that deep voice of his. _«Just dropped in to say goodbye to all of you. I’m heading out on a run. Anyone wants me to bring something special for her?»_  
One of the women, you don’t know what her name is, with bangs and round hips, asks him for a boombox.  
_«Well, you know what to do...»_ He opens his arms in an inviting manner and she wanders into his embrace obediently. Their lips connect, and you’re pretty sure you see him plunging his tongue inside her mouth and biting on her lower lip before letting her go and slapping her ass when she turns around to go back where she was sitting. Very classy.

  
_«Frankie, kitten...»_ Negan calls out her name, motioning for her to follow him with his finger. He doesn’t bother to look at you, even though you sit right next to her. _«Can I talk to you for a second?»_

* * *

  
_«I assume that last night was the night of your first sexual encounter?»_ Doctor Carson asks casually like you are having a conversation about your favorite color or time of the year.

You nod. Great. Now Frankie knows you’re a pathetic virgin.

  
_«Oh, hun...»_ Her voice is surprisingly sympathetic. She strokes your shoulder reassuringly and you lean into her warm touch subconsciously. _«I’m so sorry.»_ Doctor Carson clears his throat to remind you two that you’re not alone and she removes her hand from your shoulder.

  
_«Well, I’m not a gynecologist, but it’s normal to experience such pains after the first coitus. He might’ve bumped into your cervix and bruised it accidentally. There’s nothing to be afraid of, it happens sometimes.»_ He continues. The fact that Negan was so deep inside you makes you feel slightly nauseous. _«I’ll give you some Cyclomec. It’s an antispasmodic which you should take two times a day after eating. You can also take a warm bath or use a warmer. If the pain worsens you should visit me again.»_ He gives you a carton box full of pills and you say thank you, exiting through the door.

  
_«Will it always be that painful?»_ You seek reassurance in her when both of you walk through the corridor allotted for wives’ rooms.

  
_«No, he can be very patient and careful lover, you should just communicate with him. Tell him how you feel, whether you like what he’s doing or not. He’s not a mind reader after all.»_ She explains. He didn’t seem like a gentle lover when he viciously slammed his dick into you the other night. _«Once you’ll get adjusted to him you’ll love it.»_ You highly doubt that, but don’t tell her anything, making a mental note that her room is three doors down from yours instead. Something tells you that you’ll be spending there a lot of time from now on.

  
Frankies’ apartment is an almost exact copy of yours, only more chic with maroon brocade curtains and fluffy rug in the same shade. Red appears to be her favorite color: you can see it almost everywhere. There’s cherry red lipstick on her vanity and a ruby red teddy on one of the coat hangers.

  
No longer after you finish observing her chambers you find yourself seated in one of the comfortably looking armchairs, fidgeting the box between your fingers. You ask for a glass of water, and she murmurs something about a bottle of water in the mini fridge, too occupied with preparing a bath for you. Frankie was nice enough to let you use her bathtub since your accommodations only had a shower.

  
When you take your pill, she announces that the tub is ready and you enter the bathroom, watching her sprinkle a little bit of bath salt in it. You ditch your clothes and submerge under the water, feeling the warm waves wash over your skin. Your whole body relaxes completely within seconds and you close your eyes, basking in the warmth of both the water and afternoon sun that shines through the little window.

  
_«You mind if I join?»_ Frankie inquires and you crack an eyelid open. Warm blush creeps up your face immediately. She’s standing stark naked in front of you, waiting for your permission. No wonder she’s his favorite, you observe. Her legs are long and her breasts are supple and perky. She also has nice hips.  
_«Sure.»_ You croak. After all, it’s her tub. Water splashes around the tub when she settles in, but she doesn’t seem to mind that, putting her flawlessly styled hair into a messy bun. _«Someone’ll clean that up.»_ She shrugs her shoulders indifferently before gently grabbing your ankle and moving your body closer to hers. You can’t and don’t want to resist her, loosing yourself in the flowery scent of her body and softness of her limbs.

  
_«You didn’t come last night, don’t you?»_ Her tone placating, she clearly harbors no ridicule. _«Do you want to?»_ It’s a genuine offer and you accept it, leaning on the closest ledge and spreading your legs, positioning them on each side of the tub. Frankie dips her fingers under the water and then between your legs, easily finding the same spot that Negan previously touched, only her ministration are gentle, she’s more considerate of your own needs, not her. At first you’re scared that she’ll hurt you, dreading any spasms, but when the pressure in your lower tummy starts to build, you don’t feel any discomfort. Her nimble finger continues rubbing the sensitive nub while you writhe under her, desperately clinging to her shoulders. It feels so good you can’t even make any sound when your first orgasm washes over you, making you arch your back to the point where your shoulder blades connect and your body goes limp.

  
_«Do you want me to return the favor?»_ You ask, reaching for her folds; it’s only fair you’d do that. _«You don’t have to. Just rest. You need it.»_ Frankie cradles your head against her chest, splashing some water on both of your sweaty and overheated bodies.

  
For the first time in what seems like an eternity you feel a long forgotten feeling starting to bloom somewhere in your chest. _**Serenity.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, this chapter turned out to be kinda long!  
> a kudo or a comment would be amazing and kindly appreciated!


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